Lady of the Star Wind (38 page)

Frowning, Alessandra marked her place in the book with a graceful hand. “Who are you? How dare you disturb my afternoon?” She stared at him as she spoke, her attitude and her voice showing no fear but much annoyance.

Feeling compelled to play along with the scenario Haatrin or someone had dropped him into, he said, “Forgive me, Your Highness, but you’re in grave danger. Allow me to escort you to the main wing.”

Her forehead wrinkled a bit as she considered his words. Then her expression lightened, and she nodded. “Oh, you’re one of the new cadets, aren’t you? Is this some game the others put you up to? The seniors relish teasing and embarrassing the boys from offworld. Such hazing shouldn’t be allowed by the master of cadets.” She waved a dismissive hand at him, already opening her book again. As her finger traced the page, searching for the spot where she’d stopped reading, she said, “You mustn’t let them get you into trouble. You’ve no business here in the garden, and I’m not in any danger, I assure you. The boys are playing a prank.” Glancing at him, she made a tiny shooing motion. “If you go out the way you came and keep going left at each corner, you’ll end up in the central core of the palace and can navigate from there to wherever you’re assigned to stand guard. I won’t speak of this to anyone, don’t worry.” She flipped to the next page.

In his anxiety to get her to safety in case this was insane reality, not a dream, Mark lost his patience and forgot where they were in their personal history. Stepping forward, he took her elbow, trying to pull her to her feet. “Sandy—”

“
What
did you call me?” Clearly angry, as well as astounded at his easy familiarity, she straightened her spine. She grappled clumsily with the book, trying to avoid dropping it while she attempted to break his hold. “How dare you lay hands on me?” She was every inch the offended imperial princess.

Realizing his mistake, Mark tried to recoup with a respectful bow, releasing her elbow. “A thousand pardons, Your Highness. I’m new to court, as you’ve observed. I haven’t learned the manners and speech yet.”

“Manners can’t be so different, even on the outer worlds. One doesn’t clutch at a woman, known to you or not.” Despite the acid tone of voice, she inclined her head graciously, a bit mollified by his apology. Stepping away from him as he released her elbow, she hurried behind the bench, closing the book and holding it to her chest as if for protection. “You may go, then. I won’t mention this to your commander, but you must be more careful in the future, Cadet. Others at court aren’t as forgiving as I choose to be today.”

“I have to get you out of this garden, Your Highness. At once.” Mark was insistent.

“I think you must be drunk, or mad.” She backed away from him some more. As something at the far end of the flower beds behind him caught her attention, she pointed. “And who are these newcomers? Your friends? You’ll all be in trouble, I warn you. This cadet joke has gone too far.”

Mark didn’t have to turn to know the three assassins had arrived. Now he’d lost the element of surprise, which had turned the odds in his favor in the original encounter. He hoped he’d gained the advantage of two decades as a trained killer. Would this young body respond to the older man’s trained muscle memories? After all, he hadn’t received that lethal instruction yet. Vaulting over the bench, he grabbed the outraged princess by the shoulder, shoving her behind him, saying as he did so, “They’re here to kill you. Stay out of my way and don’t interfere.”
 

“Listen to him, girl,” advised the man in the lead, laughing as he drew twin force daggers from his belt. His face was unaccountably pleasant, nondescript, with a smile inviting Sandy to share his amusement. “Once we’ve disposed of your young valiant defender, we’ll slit your throat painlessly, I swear. We promised your uncle not to make you suffer. He has a soft spot for you in his heart somewhere, for all his hatred of your bloodline.”

Mark heard Sandy take a deep, shuddering breath before she spoke. “This must be a mistake—my parents paid him a huge bribe to omit us from the feud.”
 

The bearded, debonair assassin spat. “Your parents can argue with him later. My orders are to take you out of the equation.”

“You’re in the wrong place at the wrong time, Cadet.” The thug behind the ringleader spoke to Mark with mock pity, saluting him with a dagger. “Convenient for us, though, eh, mates? We can frame him for the crime, and his family can pay reparations to the empress.”

Mark launched himself over the bench at the first man, breaking the assassin’s scrawny neck in one practiced, violent kick, a flash of relief adding to his adrenaline-fueled strength as he drew on his future training in this strange situation. The other two hired killers wasted no time in closing in on him, ignoring Sandy, who remained rooted to the spot where she stood. Her screams wouldn’t bring immediate help. Bystanders on Throne stayed uninvolved in any incidents until the outcome made clear which side was safest to support.

 
He tried to counter the slashing attack from the second assailant, swearing and gritting his teeth as the force knife grazed his ribs, inflicting the wound whose scar he’d always bear. The deep gash wasn’t enough to stop him from killing this opponent as well, stabbing his own dagger deep into the man’s heart. Jacked up on adrenaline, Mark was immune to pain right now. The third conspirator bolted, dropping his force knives to the grass and sprinting for the far wall. Mark was having none of it, chasing him across the uneven ground, grabbing the assassin from behind as he fled, and wrestling him to the dirt. They struggled, Mark’s blood drenching them both, before he succeeded in knocking his adversary out. At the last moment he used less-than-lethal force as he remembered this man had survived in the original version of the episode. The wretch died later under the tools of the empress’s interrogators.

Shoving the unconscious man aside, Mark stood, staggering to lean on the bench, breathing hard. He stared at his last, surviving victim and then checked that the other two were indeed dead. His steps wavered, and dizziness assaulted him. He pressed a hand to his head and the other to his side in an attempt to staunch the blood loss. Disbelief that he was actually wounded contributed to his confusion. What the hells kind of dream was this? Sandy hastened to his side, her face white and anxious.

Blinking, he tried to focus on her. “Are you—are you all right, Your Highness?”

“I’m fine, thanks to you. Sit down before you fall.” She guided him to the bench, his blood staining her fingers and her dress as she reinforced the pressure he applied to the gaping wound. “How did you happen to be here? Are you involved somehow?”

“No, I got lost,” Mark lied. It had been true the first time, all those years ago. “I’m assigned to sentry duty at the west gate, with Barent Kliin, but I took the wrong corridor.”

More men burst into the garden, but he could tell from a swift glance at the uniforms that these troops were loyal to the alliance encompassing Sandy’s bloodline. The world was darkening, and he slumped from the bench to the grass. Weeping, Sandy cradled him in her arms, deflecting the attention of the guards away from him to the assassins. Horrified ladies-in-waiting pulled her away as the first of the medtechs arrived. He lost consciousness as his blood-soaked tunic was cut open by the medics.

“I forbid you to see this cadet again, Alessandra.” Her mother’s voice was cold, cutting. “You’ve thanked him sufficiently for saving your life, which was, after all, his duty as an imperial cadet officer. There’s no need for you to be visiting him repeatedly in the hospital. Such condescension on the part of an imperial princess doesn’t show you to your peers in a good light.”

Surprised her usually remote mother was even aware she’d seen her rescuer, Alessandra shook off an odd sense that they’d had this conversation before and stepped away from the portal. “Are you afraid people will talk?” Pivoting to stare at her mother, she laughed. “No one cares what I do. I’m too far down the list of heirs to the throne to matter.”

“I’m more concerned about what this cadet will think.” Her mother shook a finger at her. “He’s a Denaltieri, after all, a warrior, and you know how their clan is, always seeking advantage. His grandfather was Ekatereen’s lover for a time, which is where the family got the bulk of their fortune and honors. This man may be seeking political or financial advantage from a liaison with you.”

“But Mark—I mean, Cadet Denaltieri—killed two men and wounded the third to rescue me. I’ve never seen anything like the way he fought, except in the adventure trideos. He took a great risk for me.”

“And for himself and his family. Surely the assassins would have pinned the blame for your death on him, and his family would’ve been in trouble. It’s not a given that the empress would have interceded with Stastre to demand blood price for your death on our behalf either.” Her mother frowned. “Although she probably does have a lingering affection for the Denaltieri clan, which might have outweighed your uncle’s schemes. If you made more of an effort to please her, she’d pay more attention to you and we’d have a safer position in these delicate matters."

“This constant maneuvering and politics drives me mad,” Alessandra said. “I’m sick of it. I refuse to simper and flatter and connive like the cousins you so admire.”

“I know you prefer to think yourself above it all, but Ekatereen’s blood runs in your veins, and that makes you part of the mix, unlikely though it may be that you’d ever sit on the throne.” Her mother poured herself a cup of tea, no doubt liberally laced with strong feelgoods. “Getting back to the original subject, your father and I don’t want to hear that you’ve seen this Denaltieri boy again. I’m sure he’s quite handsome, but the time to take lovers is after your marriage, not before, Alessandra. There’ll be others to choose from in the future, just as well favored as this cadet, I promise you. Although they do say the Denaltieris are unusually…blessed in their physical endowments.” With a saucy wink, she sipped the hot beverage and sighed, relaxing into her chair. Words slurring a bit, she said, “You’ve a duty to the family to uphold.”

Alessandra took a deep breath. Arguing with her mother, especially when she was under the influence of her favorite recreational drugs, was a futile and exasperating effort. “Not to upset you further, Mother, or deny the wisdom of your counsel, but I do need to see him today because I agreed to accompany Cadet Commander Barent Kliin to the hospital. Together we’re to present Denaltieri with an award for his deeds. I funded the medal from my private stipend.”

“Barent is highly regarded. It’s an excellent stratagem to use this incident to move into his circle.” Her mother’s voice was approving. “Ekatereen is known to favor him above the others in this generation, although she’ll keep playing them all against each other. Perhaps you’re cleverer about the politics than you give yourself credit for. Very well, proceed with your plans for the day, after which we’ll be done with the Denaltieri matter.” Waving a languid hand, her mother leaned against the cushions and shut her eyes as the feelgoods hit her system.

Gritting her teeth in annoyance, Alessandra escaped into the corridor, working her way through the crowd of courtiers and minor nobility with practiced ease. Heading toward the courtyard where a family groundcar waited to whisk her to the hospital, she took perverse pleasure in her mother’s assumption that this morning’s ceremony was a scheme to attract the attention of the odious Barent Kliin. True, Alessandra chose to exert unusual energy in playing a courtier’s game this one time, but the object of her planning was none other than Mark Denaltieri.
 

Biting back a sigh at the mental image of the gallant and handsome scion of a warrior clan, she hoped he was as good at intrigue as he was at hand-to-hand combat. Would he take the risk of getting to know her better? If they were both discreet, no one would ever suspect anything between them. After all, their stations in life on Throne were worlds apart. The intense attraction she felt for him didn’t make sense, given that they’d just met, but the idea of never seeing him again was like a knife to the heart. She refused to deny herself a chance at learning more about Mark Denaltieri.

Now that he was out of the hospital, he was back on duty, with a schedule to uphold. Sandy knew that, knew he could get into trouble, so why was she late to this assignation?
 

Mark didn’t remember her being tardy to their first clandestine meeting, away from prying eyes and wagging tongues, so why was she late in this dream? Leaning on the doorframe, he stretched side to side judiciously, hoping to ease the lingering pain from the knife wound. He’d forgotten how much it hurt to take a force knife in the ribs. He gazed into the golden haze of a Throne afternoon in midsummer, enjoying the quiet beauty of Sandy’s most secret retreat, where he guessed she hid from the poisonous intrigues of her grandmother’s court.

Any moment now, she’d hasten across the overgrown meadow to this long-abandoned library, so old it held crumbling books. The library was concealed deep in the oldest section of the palace, accessible through a series of corridors and winding garden paths that became overgrown the deeper one penetrated into the recesses of this quadrant of the grounds. She’d told him how she’d explored the abandoned areas of the complex as a child whenever she could escape her relatives and minders. The fact she was able to do so told him how little she mattered to them as a person or an imperial princess. It seemed no one much cared.

Well, he cared.

She’d shared the location of the hidden door with him on her final visit to his hospital room, the last she could make without arousing anyone’s suspicions. With Barent Kliin looking on, no less. Mark grinned at the way she’d connived right under the bastard’s nose. He stared at the overgrown, broken gate through which Sandy would pass. Her arrival was a certainty, he knew now, where his much-younger self had been nervous and skeptical. Maybe even a little scared about the step he was taking, becoming involved with an imperial princess, no matter how removed from inheriting the throne. When he’d left his home planet to accept the appointment to cadet school, his grandfather warned him against forming romantic alliances too early in his career, especially with the royals.